MORNING POEM

I mentioned in my Tuesday Thirteen that I am not a morning person, so I thought I would post the Morning poem.

 I woke early one morning,
The earth lay cool and still
when suddenly a tiny bird
Perched on my window sill.

He sang a song so lovely
So carefree and so gay,
That slowly all my troubles
Began to slip away.

He sang of far off places
Of laughter and of fun,
It seemed his very trilling
Brought up the morning sun.

I stired beneath the covers
Crept slowly out of bed,
Then gently shut the window
And crushed his bloody head.

I,m not a morning person!